


Neat

by oddlyqueer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: FTM Enjolras, High School AU, M/M, Oblivious Grantaire, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Trans Enjolras, gays, social justice club les amis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddlyqueer/pseuds/oddlyqueer
Summary: at the beginning of this there is some unintentional transphobia by grantaire and a lot of foul language, so if that isn't your thing, then be warned





	Neat

**Author's Note:**

> at the beginning of this there is some unintentional transphobia by grantaire and a lot of foul language, so if that isn't your thing, then be warned

He only catches the end of Enjolras's tirade. Something about trans people? Really, he's been staring vacantly at him the whole time, and the way he pushes back his bangs when he gets too heated and needs to relax is really hot, so he hasn't been listening at all. 

“—so there's a lot we aren't doing to reclaim trans people's bodies from the control of cis people, that's all.”

Grantaire has no idea what the hell he's talking about, but it sounds ridiculous. He tries to hide his laugh, but Enjolras glares at him like a hawk spotting its prey.

“Do you have something you'd like to add to the discussion, Rene?” he asks sharply. This gets a few laughs, but he silences them with a glare. 

“No, I just— reclaiming their bodies? You make it sound like they're being physically owned by other people or something. I don't know about you, but the last time I checked, I don't have a government-issued trans person to control, so—”

“That's not what I— that is not the conversation we're having,” he says. He looks more angry than ever now, but there's an edge of desperation in there, too. “I'm talking about how trans people often don't have bodily autonomy. Sure, there are informed consent clinics, but for surgery and legal name changes, the way our society operates is often very exclusionary of younger trans people and anyone who's nonbinary.”

“Yeah, but, like, are those surgeries really necessary? It's mostly cosmetic, isn't—”

Enjolras storms over to him, grabs him by the collar of his hoodie, and looks him dead in the eye with an absolutely terrifying expression. Their faces are inches apart, and Grantaire barely has time to react to this before Enjolras shoves him backwards.

“You don't know  _ shit _ about being trans,” he hisses, and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

There's a minute or so of silence as they all react. Combeferre starts cleaning up, putting away his notes and tucking his laptop into his bag. “I'll email you guys the minutes tomorrow morning,” he says calmly, as if nothing happened.

“Are we not gonna— what the fuck? What the fuck just happened?” He honestly wishes he knew what they were talking about in the first place. Like, okay, Enjolras was passionate about social justice. He obviously cared a lot about trans issues. But why did he get so angry?

“You'd better get your stuff together, it's over.”

“But there's still ten minutes until clubs are—”

“He's not coming back. You made sure of that.” The edge to his voice is unmistakable. “So you'd better get your backpack and leave or you're going to be locked in.”

He grabs his backpack and his headphones and heads out of the classroom.

Courfeyrac stops him on the way to the parking lot, looking at him with a sigh. “Rene, Rene, Rene,” he said, shaking his head. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Do  _ you _ know what he was talking about?”

“You’re okay. He just blows up sometimes, especially when it comes to trans issues. It’ll be over in a few hours, maybe. He won’t apologize, but by tomorrow at the latest he’ll probably be at least a little sorry.”

Grantaire sighs. “But, like, why does he blow up over trans issues? I know he’s like a total social justice warrior, and I mean that in the nicest possible way, but… is that really his place to talk about?”

Courfeyrac looks behind him nervously. “He should be the one to tell you about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rene.”

“Antoine—”

“Bye,” he says, and walks over to his mom’s car. Pontmercy is sitting inside already. Grantaire sighs and walks back to the benches over by the entrance. Eponine walks over to him and pulls his beanie off his head.

“Hey. You’re driving us home, right?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, reaching up for his hat without looking at Eponine. “I think I’m— yeah, I gotta— where did I park again?”

“What happened with Aaron today?” she asks tiredly. Grantaire looks at her with a sigh.

“Am I that obvious?” She gives him a meaningful look. “Yeah. He was talking about trans rights, and I said some kind of stupid things, but he just kind of… went off. Like, he got all up in my face about it. Literally. He, like, shoved me.”

“Wow. And you don’t know why he was so mad?”

“I mean, he really cares about LGBT issues in general, but it was like, really specific.” He sighs and shoves the beanie down over his head. “Let’s just go. I’ll drop you off at my place, I gotta go pick up Gav.”

She nods, and they head out. Eponine looks back, seeing Enjolras sitting alone on the furthest bench from Grantaire, and sighs. 

—

Enjolras looks really different the next day. Not physically different, of course. He still looks like himself. Same blond hair, same bright blue eyes, even the same clothes as yesterday… but he looks wrong somehow. Dark circles under his eyes, a tired expression on his face, and his hair is an absolute mess.

“You look fucking awful,” Grantaire says. He can’t help himself. Enjolras gives him an icy glare and looks back down at his computer screen. The worksheet on his screen is completely blank. Nothing. Even at the beginning of class, he’s usually at least half-done.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks gently, putting a hand on Enjolras’s back. “You seem really off today, I just—”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.” His voice is just as angry and cold as usual, even though he looks exhausted.

“Seriously, you seem really bad. Do you need to, like, go to the nurse or something?”

“Like I said, I’m fine.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes and goes back to staring blankly at his laptop. He looks even worse in the harsh white light of the screen, and Grantaire’s so distracted by it that when Enjolras passes out onto his desk, he almost doesn’t react. But then he does.

“Oh shit, wait, are you okay?”

He looks up with a distant expression on his face. The teacher walks over to him and lifts him up, looking to Grantaire. “Can you walk him to the nurse?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, and the teacher smiles gratefully, helping Enjolras lean on Grantaire’s shoulder and stand. They leave the classroom, and Grantaire tries very hard not to freak out because  _ oh my god what the hell just happened?! _

Enjolras still manages to maintain his angry, cold expression as they walk to the nurse, even though he’s practically being carried. “You don’t have to do this,” he says. 

“Yes, I literally do. She said I should— you know what? No, I don’t have to do this. You can walk to the nurse by yourself.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I can,” he says, pushing himself away from Grantaire and trying to stand. He falls almost immediately, his knees buckling when he tries to get up. Angrily pushing himself off the ground, he tries to maintain his composure, but when he can’t even manage that, he sits back, frustrated. It would be funny if it wasn’t Enjolras and he wasn’t unable to stand.

“You good?” he says, reaching a hand out for Enjolras. “Want some help?”

“I’m fine,” he says, but still takes Grantaire’s hand and uses it to push himself up again. They walk to the nurse with Enjolras leaning on Grantaire’s shoulder still. When they get there, the nurse sighs and helps him to the back area, where he leans back and curls up with his back to Grantaire. He somehow manages to still make this look angry.

The rest of the day, he thinks about Enjolras. He’d go find him during lunch if he had any idea where he sat, but Enjolras and his little social justice club are a totally different world from him and the few friends he has— mostly Eponine and a couple of weird kids that she’d found. It was a massive difference. 

His last class of the day is gym, and he finds Combeferre in the locker room, which kind of seems like an oxymoron. He honestly seems like he just lives in those sweaters and button-ups. When he finds Combeferre, he’s wearing awkward sweatpants and an athletic t-shirt, which looks really weird on him.

“Hey, is Aaron okay?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Combeferre asks, looking confused.

“I just— he fainted in class earlier and—”

“What? He fainted?”

“Yeah, didn’t he—” 

Combeferre looks like he’s going to pass out. “He actually passed out? Like, completely?” He picks up his phone, then puts it down again, then picks it up. “I have to— he’s not okay. I didn’t see him at lunch, but I just assumed he had, like, honors society or something!”

“Wait, he wasn’t at lunch?” Grantaire’s already worried. “Do you think he went home?”

“I… okay. Um. We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“We’ll find him after school,” he says, trying to reassure him. Combeferre looks like he’s going to have an anxiety attack. 

All through gym class, Grantaire keeps sneaking glances at Combeferre. The guy who’s his current partner, one of Eponine’s weird friends, sighs. “Is this that guy Ep’s always going on and on about?”

“No! He’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, a friend you obviously want to talk to,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Go. Tell that other guy to come over here.”

He smiles gratefully. “Thanks, dude.”

“No prob, Rene.”

Walking over to Combeferre, he talks with him for the rest of the block. They have more in common than he thought. They both love cryptids and conspiracy theories, first off, and for a while they distract themselves with that, but it doesn’t take long for the topic of conversation to turn to Enjolras.

“I’m really worried about him,” Combeferre says.

“Me too. He tried to walk himself to the nurse’s office and he just kept falling over, like he literally couldn’t stand up. It was awful.”

The teacher yells at them to go change, and everyone pours into the locker rooms. He changes quickly, barely even bothering with his hair, and throws his hat into his backpack without a thought. Combeferre, once he’s done, runs back over to him. “I’ll text him really quick once we leave, get him to— oh.”

Grantaire runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Uh. Kind of long. I know.” He awkwardly throws his backpack onto one of the benches and pulls his hair up into his hat, tucking it all back inside before pulling down the front to hide his hairline, too.

“It’s nice,” he says. “Your hair, I mean. I didn’t know it was so long."

“Yeah. I didn’t really mean to grow it out, it just… happened.” He pulls one of the longer strands out from under his hat, and it springs back to its usual curly state in moments. “But yeah. Does he take the bus, or—”

“Yeah. He can’t drive, failed his test. Antoine jokes that it’s because cars are bourgeois propaganda, but—” He sighs. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”

They make their way to Enjolras’s bus, and wait for him to get there. It takes ten minutes, but when he does show up, Combeferre grabs him by the shoulders and stares him down, the Patented Combeferre Worried Expression on his face. He’d seen the expression directed at him many times.

“You  _ fainted _ ?!"

“Oh god, Lucien, is that what this is about?” He rolls his eyes and tries to get away, but Combeferre stops him. “I need to get on the bus. Let go.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” He pulls Enjolras into a hug, desperately. “Please. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Yes. I’m okay. Now can I go?”

“You’re going to tell your parents about this, right?” He still looks worried. “You’d better. If you don’t, I’m calling your mom and I’ll tell her for you.”

“I’ll tell them, jeez!” He leaves, but this time Grantaire reaches out and takes his hand. 

“I… are you feeling any better?”

“I’m fine, Rene. Now I really need to go, so…” He gets on the bus, looking at Grantaire with a sad expression before the door closes and he’s gone. Combeferre sighs and looks over at Grantaire, still with that worried face.

“You okay?”

“I just… he’s not taking care of himself. He’s not eating enough, he’s not sleeping, he’s— I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I don’t want him to get hurt either,” he says. “Can I… can I hug you?”

Combeferre nods and puts his arms around Grantaire. He tries not to cry. Someone yells “Gay!” from the bus window, and Grantaire flips them off before helping Combeferre to the parking lot.

“Are you, uh— the buses are leaving. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh. Fuck. Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize.” He sighs. “Uh, I can drive you? It isn’t that big a deal, I drive Eponine every day, so, uh, it won’t be that much of a thing. We just have to wait for her. So yeah.”

At that moment, Eponine walks up, her hair tied up in an extremely messy bun. There’s a pen, a plastic fork, and a chopstick all stuck in the mass of curly hair, and she sits down next to Grantaire, draping her arm over his shoulder. 

“You will not believe what kind of fucking day I’ve had. Someone  _ actually _ told me that the Jersey Devil was just some guy in a costume. It’s like, are you kidding me? Next they’ll tell us Mothman isn’t real!”

“Mothman is definitely real,” Combeferre says, closing the enormous book in his lap. “It’s indisputable.”

Eponine looks at Combeferre like he’s just grown a second head. “Holy shit. You believe in Mothman too?”

“I don’t  _ believe _ in him, I just don’t deny that he exists.”

“Rene. I’m in love with this man. I’m leaving you for Mothman Boy.”

Grantaire sighs and takes the plastic fork out of Eponine’s hair. “And I’m leaving you for this fork. The fork is my husband now. We’re in fork love.”

“You’re not in fork love with anyone except Aaron,” she says. Grantaire shoots her a panicked, angry look, and she looks at Combeferre. “Oh. Oh, he’s— Oh fuck, he’s  _ that _ guy! The one Aaron’s always hanging out with! Does he not know?”

“Trust me, we all know,” Combeferre says. Grantaire goes bright red. 

“Let’s— hey, Lucien, what’s your address?” He tries to change the subject, but Eponine bursts into laughter, poking him in the cheek hard. “Hey! What the— stop it!”

“Somebody’s got a crush,” she says teasingly, looking at him with a stupid smile. “Hey, Lucien, do you think he and Aaron would be a cute couple? I think they’d be adorable. And Aaron’s totally the one who has to initiate, Rene’s way too shy to do anything about that. He’s a total dork. Like, have you seen his drawings? Oh my god, his drawings, he’s constantly drawing Aaron and talking about Aaron and thinking about—”

Grantaire shoves her off the bench and walks over to his stupid minivan, unlocking the doors and getting into the driver’s seat. Combeferre sits in the passenger’s seat, keeping his backpack in his lap. Eponine lays back on the bench seats in the back, taking her hair down and letting it puff up, tying it back into a ponytail as it curls wildly.

As Combeferre directs Grantaire to his house, he sighs. Now one more person knows. He’s going to kill Eponine.

—

As Enjolras sits in the audience while Combeferre shares his presentation with the rest of the club, Grantaire watches him. He plays with his hair nervously, not even taking notes. 

The presentation ends. Courfeyrac comes over to Enjolras, sitting on his desk and putting a hand on his arm. They talk quietly for a moment, and Enjolras keeps looking down, looking anywhere but at Courfeyrac, and when he gestures at Enjolras’s chest he breaks down.

“Oh shit, Aaron, are you okay?” He rushes over to Enjolras, who’s crying quietly into the palms of his hands. He sits back in his chair, curling up in his hoodie and hiding his face. Feuilly kneels down beside him, and Joly rubs his back as he cries. 

Bossuet stands beside Grantaire, looking down at Enjolras worriedly. 

“Do you—”

“It’s not my business to say,” Bossuet says quietly. “He’s… it’s really not something I have the right to talk about right now. Probably ever, to be honest.”

Enjolras wipes his eyes and looks down at his notes bitterly. “I’m sorry, you guys,” he says, quietly sighing. “I should— I’m gonna go to the bathroom and clean up.”

“Are you… I’ll come with you,” Bossuet says quickly. He seems on edge for some reason. “Just to make sure.”

Enjolras tenses up. “No. I can go by myself.”

“You’re— No. I’m going with you.” He grabs Enjolras’s hand and brings him to the door. As he leaves, Bahorel picks up his copy of 1984— he’d been doing his English homework as Combeferre talked— and throws it, hard, at the wall. It makes a poster fall, leaves an ugly mark on the cover, and makes Joly jump.

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , what the fuck did you do that for, Christophe?”

“I just— he was gonna use the women’s bathroom, and you fucking know it,” he says, gesturing wildly at the door. “He was, like, really obvious about it, and how he was acting when Octave offered to go with him to the bathroom? I hate when he does shit like that, I  _ hate _ it— he’s not a girl! He has to stop treating himself like this!”

Grantaire looks from Bahorel, who still looks angry, to Joly, who’s nodding along. “Wait, what do you mean ‘he’s not a girl’? Obviously he’s not a girl. Wh— he was gonna use the— why? What are you talking about?”

Feuilly looks over at them and nods. “Rene, Aaron’s not cis. When he moved here a couple years back, he just started transitioning, and he’s… he still kind of gets worried about not being able to pass? And that’s why—”

“Holy shit, that’s why he got so— oh my god, I was  _ such  _ a fucking asshole!” He puts his head in his hands. “And— oh my god. Oh my fucking god, I’m the worst! I’m literally the worst person! I cannot fucking believe that I said— I fucking said that surgeries for trans people are cosmetic! How that must have made him feel— I—”

He stares down at his feet, at the bruised-up hardcover on the floor, and his shoulders drop. Joly walks over to him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Joly says.

“Yes, it literally is. I literally said that what he wants— needs? The stuff he needs to survive is, like, unnecessary. I’m a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t want you to change your mind just for the reason that you like him and care about him,” he says. “Literally he would probably hate that. He’s not really a fan of, like, when people only change their mind because of their friends or family.”

“But I— I was such a horrible person! I— oh god, once I said he looked like a girl with his hair longer! Did that make him cut it? Did he do that because of me?”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchange a look. “Did you not think that maybe since he cut all his hair right after you said that, maybe it  _ might _ have something to do with that?”

“Um. No. I didn’t end up actually, uh, thinking about it?”

Enjolras comes back, still a bit teary-eyed, and sits down next to Grantaire. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“Um, Aaron, I— I’m sorry about what I said to you last meeting. I wasn’t thinking.” He tries not to think about all the other times he might have accidentally said something insensitive and not even realized. “I know I shouldn’t have said that, and—”

“Which one of you fucking told him?” Enjolras says, glaring at everyone around the room. “I know one of you told him. I’m not mad, but I know he would  _ not _ change his mind unless one of you told him that I’m trans.”

Feuilly raises his hand awkwardly. “Um. He was asking about— yeah. I told him.”

He lets out a long sigh and puts a hand on his face. “Great. Wonderful. So that’s the meeting for today. Have fun. I’m going to go home and try not to fucking murder someone.” He picks up his backpack and storms out of the room.

“This is weird. Like, he’s done this every so often, but that’s two meetings in a row that he’s done this,” Courfeyrac says. “I mean, it’s Aaron, he’s gonna do this every so often, he’s kind of, you know, volatile—”

“Where did you even learn that word?”

“SAT prep,” Combeferre says happily. “But yeah. He doesn’t really do this that often. It’s weird.”

Grantaire just leaves. He has no idea what he even did— that’s a lie. He knows exactly what he did, and he wasn’t even thinking when he did it. He had no idea it was bad, but that isn’t even an excuse. It was stupid of him to even try. 

He runs into— literally runs into— Enjolras, who’s standing by his locker. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey.” He has so much he wants to say. “Uh, are you, like, good?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He looks at Grantaire awkwardly. “Do you have anything else you want to say?”

“Um. I’m sorry. For everything I said. Like ever. Just literally everything I’ve ever said to you. I’m such a fucking idiot and I should probably just shut my mouth whenever I’m around you because I honestly would probably just say something really stupid, like confessing that I really really like you and— oh fuck, I’m such a dumbass.”

Enjolras is bright red. He looks at Grantaire with a confused look on his face. “You… you what?” He looks genuinely perplexed by this, and Grantaire feels a sudden burst of pride for actually getting Enjolras to be speechless. “You actually… I’m sorry, this is gonna take a second to get used to, I just— wow. Okay. Honestly, thinking back, I’m pretty sure I should have noticed something by now?”

“Yeah, I was kind of— really obvious? I, like, stared at you all the time during class and meetings and stuff.”

“I mean, I just thought— um— like, oh, it’s a trans person, let’s all stare at them—”

“No! I’d never do that!” He’s honestly angry that anyone would do that in the first place, let alone that Enjolras would think he would do that.

“I mean, it was more likely than you reciprocating my feelings—”

“You had a crush on me too?”

“Um. Have. Present tense.” He’s still blushing. It’s a strange look on Enjolras, usually so cold and so stoic, and it makes Grantaire slightly uncomfortable. “I thought that, um, maybe you didn’t want to date me. Because I just assumed you were gay and you didn’t want me.”

“Why would being gay mean I don’t— Aaron,” he sighed, taking Enjolras’s hands. “You’re as much of a man as anyone that I like. And I’m bi, so even if you were a girl, which you’re not, I would still love you so much. And I do.”

“You— you love me?”

“Yeah, uh, I do.” He looks Enjolras directly in the eyes, and as Enjolras leans up, eyelashes fluttering closed, their lips meet.

It’s like an explosion. Sure, Grantaire had kissed people before, but holy fucking shit. It was like he was actually kissing an actual angel. He had no idea if it was this good for Enjolras, probably not, but it was so great that he felt like he was high. It was so great that he couldn’t even think of any more shitty metaphors.

As they broke apart, Enjolras’s eyes fluttered open, his long eyelashes brushing Grantaire’s face and  _ holy shit. _ It was… his brain stopped working. It was really good. 

“Wow,” Enjolras says, breath heaving. “I mean,  _ wow. _ That was— I mean, most likely it was comparatively good.”

“Have you— fuck, was I your first kiss?” He nods. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Enjolras blurts out. “It was neat. And I like you a lot.”

He kisses Enjolras again, desperately. As they break apart for the second time, Enjolras is still bright red. He’s holding onto Grantaire tightly and  _ oh my god. _ It was amazing. Enjolras is literally kissing him and it’s so, so amazing. There’s a lock of hair falling into Enjolras’s eyes, and he brushes it out of the way, and Enjolras is right next to him. Wow. He still can barely believe it.

“Hey, Rene, you forgot your— Oh  _ shit. _ ” Courfeyrac— fucking Courfeyrac, oh my god— is standing right there, in the doorway to the classroom of the club, holding Grantaire’s book, and staring at them.

“Oh shit. Oh  _ shit! _ Laurent, you owe me ten bucks, they finally fucking did it!” From inside the classroom, there’s a loud groan.

“Seriously?” Joly yells back. “Come on, you two! Could you have waited, like, four more days?”

“I— you were  _ betting _ on us?!” Enjolras yells, even more red. “You— seriously, Antoine?”

“Did they? Are they kissing? Let me see!” Bahorel runs out of the classroom, sliding to a stop after colliding with a row of lockers. When he sees them, still leaning against the lockers in an embrace, he literally jumps. “Oh shit! Oh my god you two are actually kissing and they’re like—  _ wow! _ ”

“I’m not a zoo exhibit,” Enjolras snaps, extricating himself from Grantaire. They stand together, holding hands, a small distance apart, and Enjolras looks at him for a moment before grabbing his backpack off the ground and running out of the hallway and towards the door.

“Aaron, wait—” He sighs. “I’m gonna go. Eponine is probably waiting for me.” As he walks away, he hears them whispering about them, and looks back for a moment, seeing them all huddled together. Courfeyrac appears to be jumping up and down in excitement. Shaking his head in mild disappointment, he walks over to the bench where he meets Eponine. 

“Yo. You look like you’re high. Did you two finally hook up?”

“It wasn’t like that, but— yeah. We kissed. He said he likes me. And yeah.” It’s his turn to blush now, and he can’t help but smile.

“Aww, you nerd,” she says, pulling the beanie over his eyes. “I’m happy for you and your gay boyfriend. You two are gonna be cute together.”

“We’re not—”

“Yes, you fucking are.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes, more les mis fanfic, the one thing i needed to write more of.
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
